


Dance With Me

by beltainefaerie



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, Longing, Love, One-Sided Attraction, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 18:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1136089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beltainefaerie/pseuds/beltainefaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock teaches John Watson how to dance and wishes it could be more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dance With Me

The curtains were drawn and the chairs were pushed out of the way, practically against the wall. The rug was rolled up, out from underfoot. Sherlock had even swept the floor, dull though chores were. It made the floor feel better under his feet.

John had arrived on time and in the soft soled shoes requested. _Perfect._

Sherlock began, “John, I want you to follow my lead the first time through. That way you can get a feel for the music and the flow, alright?” He pressed play and in the slight lead time took a step closer to John. His hands went up, clasping John’s and gripping his waist, slightly tighter than one usually would for a dance partner, the better to maneuver him around the floor.

“Don’t watch your feet, John. Look up, into my eyes. There. Just go with it.”

Sherlock swept John around the floor. While he had faltered a bit when he was looking down, once John was focusing on him, his steps smoothed out. 

“What is this piece?”

“Oh, just a little something I recorded. It isn’t the actual piece. That will be a surprise.”

They danced in companionable silence for a moment. 

When the song ended, there was a trace of melancholy in John’s face. He had looked so happy lately that it seemed more than a bit out of place. Sherlock wondered if he had done something, but then John spoke.

“It’s funny. I know I used to get on you about waking the neighbors, but now, sometimes I miss your playing in the middle of the night.”

Sherlock didn’t know what to say to that, so returned his focus to the dance lesson. “Well, you’ll hear it again,” he said, lightly. “You are following fairly well,” he said, “But now I’ll be the girl, so that you can learn your part. You are dancing with Mary, after all. Just step forward,” John did, letting Sherlock’s words guide him. “And now out and together. Not too fast. Just finish the box.” 

While John wasn’t quite in synch with the music, the steps seemed to be coming along. He occasionally overstepped, and even with Sherlock’s quick reflexes, John stepped on his toes a more than once. His deathgrip on Sherlock’s arm wasn’t helping. 

“Relax, John. You won’t ensure beautiful dancing by squeezing her to death.” John relaxed a fraction, though still wasn’t anywhere close to at ease with it. Good thing they still had a few weeks.

“Fine for your first day. A few trod on toes notwithstanding.” Sherlock grinned at him.

“Well, you are a fine teacher. Not just everyone has a consulting dance instructor for a best friend, you know.”

Sherlock laughed at that, so hard that John could barely make out, “only one in the world”. Their giggles died down with a sigh.

“Well, that’s enough of that. You have to be up early for the clinic tomorrow and I am expecting a client.” John knew well enough by now not to ask how he knew about the early shift at the clinic. 

When they had said their goodbyes, Sherlock sank down onto the couch and closed his eyes. If he concentrated just so, he could feel John in his arms again. His throat tightened and he clenched his jaw against tears, taking a deep breath. _Just enjoy these moments. It is far too late for anything else. He is speaking to me again. We are laughing._ It really couldn’t be better. He willed himself to think only of how happy John looked. 

\---  
The following session, Sherlock handed John a CD. “In case you have trouble sleeping.” 

“Ta. Sherlock, that is really…” John swallowed, not entirely sure why the gesture touched him so, but it did. That Sherlock would be so thoughtful. “I meant it. I do miss your playing. Thank you.”

If Sherlock’s smile was a bit tight, John made no mention. And certainly Sherlock kept this particular pattern of reasoning to himself. There was no sense bring up the fact that if John was still staying here, he could simply play him back to sleep. Sherlock was all too aware that if he hadn’t “died” John wouldn’t have needed to fall into Mary’s arms. What good did dwelling on it do? He certainly wouldn’t make John feel bad for it. He given John enough grief. _No. Now it was time to make up for it._

Sherlock turned to his computer, adding absently, “Of course. Track three is a waltz, in case you have a chance to practice.”

He loaded the music and they began again. John was starting to feel it. Today they moved better. They were better synchronised with one another and he was more comfortable. It was clear in his lighter hold, in the ease with which he practiced the steps. He still tended to look at his feet and made the occasional misstep, but things were certainly coming along. Another day, another dance. Time after time,round and round the living room of 221B. A couple times each week they meet like this and Sherlock tries to pretend he doesn’t have a heart to break.

“And that’s all there really is to it”, Sherlock said, dropping John’s hands abruptly as the song ended. “Tea?” he asked, while striding towards the kitchen. He had to get away from John. He had to. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had wanted to kiss someone, but his mind was screaming _Not now. Not this. John is getting married and I will not do this to John Watson. Not now._

He knew that he was never the one who made the tea and he didn’t care. He needed to do something. His hands went through the motions of putting the kettle on and rummaging in cabinet for tea bags, while his mind was a blur. How is it possible to feel simultaneously this hot and cold. Practically shaking, his rational mind barely held on to the thought, _thisisn’tgoingtokillme._

_Breathe in. Breathe out._

When Sherlock brings in the tea, John takes it with a searching glance, as if to ask, _what is all this, then?_

It felt perilous for a moment, like teetering on the edge of chasm. But John doesn’t push. He doesn’t actually ask, just keeps an eye on Sherlock. Sherlock asks after Mary and they talk about the clinic and cases. When they part, Sherlock is breathing easier once again. _There. Just like old times._

One last time and it is better than all the others. Every turn, every step is right on. There are moments Sherlock can’t help but wonder. _Is it the music he is leaning into, or me._ And it clicks. Something irrational suddenly makes sense. People always say they feel so close to their partner it is like they are one being. 

_John has finally gotten, not just the rhythm of it, but the flow._ It is in this, this movement, heartbeats and breath in perfect synchronicity. 

_I know I’ve done it. I’ve taught him what he needs to know. And so this has to end._

_The wedding’s in three days._

There is a solemn note to the dancing that day, but it is technically perfect. They go through it several times. John wants to be sure after all. Sherlock praises his efforts and their talk ebbs and flows a bit more naturally these days. 

When he leaves, he is actually whistling. 

_John is so happy._

Sherlock simply sinks to the floor, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Because in many ways this moment is all that he has worked for. 

And nothing has ever hurt more. 


End file.
